The crane line whips around the pit below
through haze the sunny spray of cirrus gleams.
The wind is full a skipping undertow
in line above: fidget of the pigeon dreams
they shimmer in and out as secret seams
balloon and shudder dips along the wire.
The air is hammered through the children’s screams
in rolling billows: suck of engine’s fire.
A breath of beaten dust toward the church top spire.
